


Comfort Zone

by Blue_Ambrosia



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn, eventual E rating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Ambrosia/pseuds/Blue_Ambrosia
Summary: Alan is asked to join a case on which he has to work with a certain Charlotte.He doesn’t need to be asked twice.
Relationships: Alan Shore/Original Female Character
Kudos: 9





	1. Headaches

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic, so don’t expect too much.
> 
> I am just a gal rewatching the Boston Legal series for the umpteenth time and I want all the best for Alan. So here’s my two pence in achieving that.
> 
> Update planned soon. I hope life doesn’t get in between.

Alan embarked upon a stroll across the law firm to get his third cup of tea that morning. And it wasn’t even 11 o’clock yet. Nor was he coming down with a cold.

Alan Shore was in between the cases. Which meant Alan Shore was bored and had time to overthink his admittedly not very fulfilling life.

He smelled Sally’s perfume on Brad this morning. So now not only was he still all messed up by her recent phoenix-after-rebirth like reappearance in his life. He was also second to a life size Ken Doll. Great.

He was jerked out of his self-pitying train of thought by Shirley, who came barging through the door of the staff kitchen “Alan, meet your new colleague and co-counsel on your next case, Charlotte Merck. God knows you haven’t got anything better to do right now.”

“Well, I am always inclined and avaliable to meeting new counsels, especially of the fairer sex,” Alan quipped as he turned around, still nursing a cup of tea, now already cold, in his clasped hands. 

Charlotte Merck was a tall glas of water. A woman of fine figure, rather tall and yet from afar one probably wouldn’t say so, because she was curvy in all the right places. Her legs went for miles and it took Alan what felt like hours for his gaze to travel from her black stilettos to her piercing green eyes.

“How do you do, Mr. Shore?” she said knowingly with an extended hand, her composure undisrupted by his chauvinism.

“Suddently, much better, thank you”, he replied with a smirk and an intense stare and made a point of dragging his eyes from her face, down her long neck and to in her bosom.

“Charlotte is representing a father sueing his ex-wife for custody rights over their daughter.”

“Indeed,” Charlotte continued, rearranging her scarf so that it covered more of her abundant breasts “their underage daughter was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, stage 2, a year ago. It’s very treatable with chemo and minor operation proceedures, however the mother and the daughter refuse the classic medical treatment. They are both strong supporters of alternative medicine.”

“Apparently also of alternative life styles. Live fast, die young that is”, Alan remarked to Charlotte’s mild amusement. 

“It’s gonna be a hard one Alan ...” 

“With you by my side, I’m sure it will be”, he replied with a boyish grin.

“I should’ve seen this one coming, your reputation preceeds you outside of Boston and the mileage only tones the reality down, as far as I can see,” she bantered back.

“A mother’s custody right is sacred in this state. But the father wants to proceed with a lawsuit for custody rights on the grounds of neglect,” Shirley explained as she handed Alan a file.

“Well I’m positively dying to get in a room alone with you, Ms Merck, so let’s not hesitate and head over to my office I’ll be glad to share for the time of our cooperation”, Alan said as he guided her by the show of hands towards his office, the cold, still full teacup long forgotten left on the counter.

Oh boy, this was gonna be fun.

————————————————————————————

After a couple of hours of working on the case with Charlotte Merck, Alan was sure about two things:  
She was an excellent lawyer and she was not single. He collected the latter from the heart shaped pendant she wore nested above her breasts. Women never buy heart shaped jewlery for themselves. And also by the giddy smile on her face after reading a particular text message, followed by “I’m just gonna pop out to a lunch meeting in half an hour. Continue at 4?”

Not that it posed any real obstacle for Alan’s corrupted sense or morality when it came to his personal affairs, but he was pretty much sure that it was a dead end on her part. She was a woman of principle.

He was alone, mulling over a salad in his office and thinking about a particular scene, where she tucked a strand of her natural dark blonde, shoulder length, thick hair behind her ear, as Denny barged in, as per usual without knocking.

“I heard you’re trying with a hot woman.”

“I am,” Alan calmly replied.

“You gonna get in her skirt?” Denny inquired.

Alan chuckeld “I don’t think so. She’s a remarkable and very much taken woman in her early thirties. Doesn’t strike me as the cheating type with a lust for a May/October affair.”

“How about May/December?”

“Don’t call yourself December, Denny. You’re a late November at most.”

“Damn right I am. Thanksgiving season.”

“Indeed,” Alan half smiled at his friend.

“What’s with the rabbit food?” Denny suggested at his plate. 

“Well, I guess I want to cut down on the carbs and try getting back into the dating game,” Alan offered.

“You’re planning on leaving me?” Denny asked, appalled.

“I could never, Denny,” Alan said sincerely. “However, the recent encounter with Sally ...”

“I still don’t get the post-coital isolation thing, Alan. That’s against all male instincts!”

“Well, it seems that that is the result of my internal underlying yearning for closeness and affection from a regular mating partner.”

“How regular?” Denny asked with a blank expression.

“Very. As in exclusive.”

Denny gasped. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m afraid I am. Now that is not to say I am going to find a candidate willing to engage with a shabby October in that sort of arrangement any time soon. But I am on the lookout, yes,” Alan concluded.

“Marriage never works my friend. Been there, 7 times. Never lasts.”

“Well, I haven’t tried my hand at marriage in a while and am also not sure I want to again. Just ... someone to come home to in the evening would be nice,” Alan surprised even himself with the momentary vulnerability.

“Well my friend, there is always a simpler solution for that than dating,” Denny said matter of factly.

“Amuse me by voicing it out for me, Denny,” Alan begged.

“I can hook you up to the creator of Shirley Schmidt-Ho”, Denny whispered conspirationaly.

“I shall keep that in mind,” Alan smirked.

————————————————————————————

Charlotte was in a good place right now.

Okay, she was in a great place. 

She had just been named Senior Associate at the New Jersey branch of Crane, Pool & Schmidt, with a promise of possibly making Partner eventually. She was being assigned high profile cases reagularly, she was liked by most people (or at least by the important ones) and she had a woderful boyfriend of 3 years. 

David was a pediatrician at Boston General hospital. They had met during one of her work related Boston visits years ago and they sort of slowly progressed into what could be described as a very devoted and stable relationship. 

“Hello dearest!” he practically swooped her up in front of the Thai restaurant they were grabbing a bite at. 

“Long time, no see, handsome,” she beamed at him. 

Even after three years of long distance relationship, it was apparent David was smitten as a kitten with Charlotte. He would often reach for her hand, feed her a forkful of his dish or just press his calf against hers, for her to feel his closeness.

“So, how’s the new case going?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Well I met the colleague I’m working with today for the first time in person. He’s... a handful.”

“Meaning?” David asked worriedly.

“Well he’s an excellent lawyer, just a little bit excentric and blatant at times,” she answered truthfully.

“Okay, but do you feel comfortable working with him?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. I’m not that fragile, fret not,” she winked at him.

Between the two of them, she was definetly the stronger one and in charge. She liked having everything under control, nothing surprising her. Everything was playing out exactly to the plan she had made in her head.

“I know that,” David offered supportively.

“The case itself doesn’t seem to be that simple. However, I was told this guy could pull off miracles, so I’m counting on that a little bit here,” she continued.

Truth being told, Charlotte has never seen anyone practice law the way Alan did. It was all very spontaneous and outside the box. A complete opposite of her approach. Which is exactly why they just might stand a chance here. 

That’s why she also obediently put up with his lewd leers and remarks. For once, she was used to that as a successful woman in law business. And for second, a win in Massachusetts court might get her transferred to the local branch of the firm, enabling her finally to move in with David for good and start their life together.

After a delicious chicken with cashew nuts meal, Charlotte kissed her boyfriend goodbye, promising to pick up some takeout dinner for them on the way home from work. 

She was humming a song that was stuck in her head on her way to the Crane, Pool & Schmidt office.

Yeah, she was in a great place.

————————————————————————————-

It was 4 pm to the minute as Charlotte reentered Alan’s office with a broad and, oh, so perfect smile. 

“I take it your lunch was ... satisfying?” Alan asked her.

“Oh, very much so, counsel,” she grinned back.

“Let’s meet our client, shall we?” Charlotte suggested with determination on her face that left no place for any other response but an obediant nod from Alan.

The meeting was mostly led by Charlotte, which gave Alan a lovely opportunity to focus rather on analysing her instead of the case itself. He was familiar with all the facts about that already. But she was such a beautiful enigma ...

From the side, her profile looked simply stunning. High and full cheekbones gave her somewhat exotic look. An occasional subtle foreign accent was also noticable on certain words, however Alan could not exactly place it. Perhaps European?

As Charlotte spoke, to anyone sitting on the opposite side of the table, she presented a full front, composed and powerful. She was of sharp wit and and looked in utter control.

Alan’s sharp eye, however, saw her playing with her left shoe under the table, swinging it on and off her heel. She was nervous. She had doubts about winning this. 

“Mr Welsney, I’m gonna be honest here - there is no guarantee we will win this,” Charlotte finally told her client.

“How can there be no law that would prevent a mother denying her child medical care?” Mr Welsney exasperatedly asked.

“Well I guess that is considered modern day Darwinism, the law above all laws,” Alan tuned in.

Charlotte shot him a stern look, one that Alan completely ignored.

“We will win this, Mr Welsney. This simply cannot stand in federal court,” Alan said calmly. He was a better liar than Charlotte. So good in fact that he even managed to make her believe him and calm down for a second. 

They ended the meeting, agreeing to meet again at the hearing, scheduled for the following day.

“You lied to him,” Charlotte accused him when they were alone once again.

“I simply stated what I hope to be true, making it seem a bit more certain than it actually is.”

“A lie nontheless,” she didn’t yield.

“Well cuff me up and have your way with me, will ya?” Alan said, holding his hands in the air in fake surrender.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Get your horny ass to your office, we have to dig up someting on the wife.”

They spent another two hours doing research on the case. Turns out Mrs Wesley was dating a professional homeopath, who offered to treat daughter’s cancer with an array of his homeopathic oils, both the daughter and the mother were swallowing up, so to speak. 

“Well this good. Gives our case this crazy guy’s financial motif and persuasion as the cause of mother’s and daughter’s irrationality,” Charlotte summed up as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

“Is your pretty little head bothered by a headache?” Alan asked.

“Yeah, I’ve had a couple of sleepless nights in a row now,” she admitted.

Alan stood up and walked around her chair. He placed his hands on either side of her head and massaged certain areas he knew helped with headache relief.

“What are you... Ohhhh,” Charlotte gasped, as she was relieved of the pain immediately. “How did you do that?” 

“My ex-wife used to have these... migraines,” Alan explained. “At the time I did some research how to aid her when it was the worst, so I didn’t feel so helpless, just watching her in distress.”

“You were married?” Charlotte asked in disbelief.

“You make it sound so implausible, why is that?” Alan chuckled.

“Well it’s just ... You don’t come across as a person with an ambition to ever settle down,” she admitted.

“Well, lord behold, I put a ring on it, once upon a time,” he said reminicingly.

“And lemme guess, the happily ever after ended when you couldn’t keep it in your pants any longer?” she assumed.

Alan supposed that was more than fair, given his forward attitude towards her. Christ he was blatantly ogling her like a piece of meat for the past 10 hours.

Still, he replied calmly, “One would think so yes. But in fact... she died.”

Charlotte’s head snapped around, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Alan, I didn’t know ...” She was rambling excuses one over the other.

“That’s okay,” Alan reassured her. “It’s been a long time. As you saw, I have fully recovered by now. If by any chance you wish to express your condolances in a more physical way, I can schedule janitor’s closet in about 5 minutes’ time.” As he was speaking, his hands meandered lower, down her neck and her shoulders, moving towards her supple breasts ...

“That’d end our session for today, Mr Shore,” Charlotte grabbed his hot hands with her cold ones. “I’ll see you in court tomorrow.”

“Just when I thought we were about to work some overtime,” Alan said longingly.

Charlotte stood up, collected her paper files, while Alan held up her coat for her to put on. She quietly thanked him for his assistance. 

“Good night, Ms Merck. And get a good night’s sleep tonight or I might not be able to massage that headache away tomorrow,” he told her.

She nodded, “Good night, Mr Shore,” and strutted out of his office, leaving the door opened behind her. 

Alan could swear she threw in an extra wiggle of her marvellous backside for his benefit. Or so he chose to tell himself.

————————————————————————————

Stupid Lotti. You stupid broad. 

She should’ve known better than to trust that sleaze of a man with a head massage.

She was surprised, she supposed, about his disarming honesty. Him being a widower, well that’s not something she saw coming. When he talked about that, he seemed almost decent. Plus he was tending to her, trying to relieve her pain ...

Only to try and cup a feel, she reminded herself. There was nothing gallant about Alan Shore. He’s the type of a man that she’d usually avoid in wide range. 

In the efforts of trying to forget how hot his hands felt on her neck and how cold hers were in contrast to his, she knocked on her boyfriend’s apartment door, only to remember she had forgotten to pick up the promised takeout on the way home.

————————————————————————————-  
After the traditional end of the day whiskey & cigare with Denny, Alan headed home. As he was getting ready for bed, he inspected himself in the mirror, wearing only a towel around his waist. 

His round face, although not completely wrinkle free, still had a bit of a boyish youthfulness and charm. His hairline was moving up with about the same pace as his abdominal skin was drooping down, way too fast for his liking. And he could definetly afford to invest into Denny’s business of fat conversion to fuel.

Now how could any woman, let alone a romantically involved smoking hot blonde, find him suitable for more than just an occasional roll in the hay and even that is a long shot. 

With a heavy sigh, Alan changed to his striped white and blue pajamas, rolled in the bed and turned off the lights. 

As he was drifting to sleep, he barely registered, right there on the border between dream and reality, the feeling of thick, blonde hair underneath his fingertips.


	2. Speed

As Alan walked trough the door of that courtroom the following, Charlotte had already been sitting next to their client in the front row. She was wearing a black blazer and had her hair neatly pulled together into a low somewhat messy bun. As he was approaching the front, he couldn't help but to hope for a tight black skirt to go with her power suit.

"Good afternoon, Mr Wesley. Ms Merck, always a pleasure," he said sincerely. "Head feeling any better?"

"Much, thank you," Charlotte responded cooly. Alan delightedly observed her toned thighs were wrapped in the tightest of black business skirts, the side slit revealing just enough for the attire still be considered professional. Now, if he rode the hem a bit higher, that could turn out very unprofessional, very quickly ...

"As we agreed yesterday, first you'll be taking the examination of the mother, then I take over for the father ..." Charlotte began.

"You did always strike me as a daddy's girl anyway," Alan interrupted. "Am I correct in assuming so, Ms Merck?" he asked her with a spark in his eyes. Alan was satisfied to notice a soft blush creep onto her cheeks.

"You would be correct. My daddy taught me to shoot men like you," she responded with utmost composure. 

"Ahh, if only. I'd be happy to take a bullet from underneath such skilled ..." Alan traced her right index finger with his own "... hands."

Charlotte yanked her hand away just when the judge, a woman in her sixties, walked into the room.

"All rise. Case number 902877, Mr Sean Wesley against Mrs Lauren Wesley."

"Mr Wesley is suing for custody rights over Emma Wesley, your honor," Alan didn't lose a beat.

"On what grounds?" the judge inquired.

"General ignorance," Alan said as if it were self explanatory and deserved an eye roll both from the judge and Charlotte. "But for the sake of choosing an option from the US constitution, we'll be arguing Mrs Wesley has shown extreme form of negligence by denying their daughter therapy for her oncological condition."

The opposing counsel retorted "Mrs Wesley has provided her daughter with a treatment option that in her opinion would bring her the best risk-benefit ratio ..."

"Oh I'm sorry, has Mrs Wesley acquired a medical expertise certificate of any kind in the past week? Last time I checked she was an accountant in a fuel company," Alan argued.

"Your honor, my client had sought expert advice on the topic and followed that source's instruction to the dot. Emma Wesley herself prefers the current alternative option over classic cancer treatment, since there are no major side effects of the former ..."

"Of course not! No scientific studies have shown any efficacy of the 30 oils a day treatment whatsoever. As far as the medical community is concerned, What Emma Wesley is doing is equivalent to pouring some extra olive oil on her salad every day, expecting that to treat her lymphoma. A real, diagnosed and very serious condition," Alan fumed. "I guess the only damage, or benefit for that matter, here she could suffer is hyperlipidemia in a couple of years' time. But no worries, she probably won't last that long with the lymphoma steadily growing and whatnot."

"Order, counsels. I'd like to hear from the clients first," the judge ordered.

"Certainly, your honor," the opposing counsel agreed. "The defense calls Mrs Lauren Wesley to the stand."

The mother provided the court with tons of poor arguments against the medical community and wild misinformation. Alan had to keep objecting to false statement and unreliable sources, while the mama bear was steadfast in her scepticism against medicine. However, the opposing counsel argued that it is a personal choice of the patient for what kind of treatment he or she wants to decide for or even reject. And it surely didn't help that the mother was only voicing out her daughter's preferences. 

Alan in his cross examination managed to establish that Mrs Wesley wouldn't let her daughter do drugs or smoke or sell her body, even though it would be her preference. But the trouble was in every other aspect, Lauren Wesley was an outstanding mother with good income. So Alan's main point was to point out her new boyfriend and tried to argue that he brainwashed both her and the daughter.

Next, the prosecution called Mr Wesley to the stand and it was Charlotte's time to shine. She met earlier that day with the client to prepare him for his testimony. Alan had to admit she did a pretty god job, she was nothing if not a perfectionist. Mr Wesley came across as a very loving and concerned father, who only wanted his daughter to live. He wouldn't try to rip Emma away from her current home and friends, he only insisted on her getting the needed treatment.

While Charlotte argued the case, Alan's eyes once again meandered all over Charlotte's gorgeous body. He knew it was gonna come to this ever since he woke up with an erection this morning. That hadn't happened to him in a while. Underneath the blazer she was wearing a white sleeveless top with a high collar that ended in bow around her neck. She must be wearing a nude bra, Alan thought. Any other color would be seen through the thin fabric. He imagined the sensation of his fingertips creeping under the silky top. Would her skin be even softer than the fabric? For sure. And warmer, too.

Suddenly, as she scooted past him, between his thighs and the table to seat back to her spot, he noticed something at the highest point of her skirt slit. It was, without a doubt, a beginning of a tattoo. Charlotte had some ink on her left inner thigh. 

Alan could feel himself practically salivating at the thought of uncovering the rest of it. 

He was so distracted he almost missed the opposing counsel drop a bombshell "Mr Wesley, here I have some files that confirm you registring yourself into a rehab programme on September 21st, 1992. Care to explain to the judge what that was all about?"

Every head in that courtroom snapped to Mr Wesley, who suddenly went gravely pale. 

Well, this was awkward.

"Mr Wesley, please answer the question," the judge ordered.

"That was before I ever met Lauren or had Emma." he said gravely. "I was a meth addict. But I successfully beat the addiction..."

"The defence rests, judge," the opposing counsel said with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Ms Merck, do you have anything to add to that?" the judge summoned Charlotte.

With an expression of utter distress, Charlotte quietly started "No, your h..."

"For a matter of fact I do," Alan practically jumped out of his seat. In moments like this, Alan often didn't know what was going to come out of his mouth next. But he sensed any improvisation here right now will be more beneficial than letting the judge rest on the fact that the father was an ex meth-head. 

He tried to indicate that Mr Wesley was now an established and respected member of the community without any relapses and passion for law obedience. He hoped he convinced the judge more than he managed to convince himself. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_"I was a meth addict."_

Everything in front Charlotte's eyes went black. No. This can't be true.

There were tears prickling her eyeballs. She was completely paralized. They're done for. They lost the case. No one is gonna give the custody to an ex addict. 

She was just mouthing to the judge that she was not in the state to interview her client any further, when Alan bolted out of his chair next to her and frankly startled her. 

He talked and talked, asked all the right questions, each one served further to wash Mr Wesley of any current suspicion of him being an unsuitable father. Alan was downright amazing. She had nothing but pure admiration for him in that moment.

"Thank you, Mr Wesley," Alan concluded finally and returned to his seat, his gaze trained on the judge, deep in thought.

Charlotte's eyes never left him for the past 10 minutes however and he must've felt her stare trained on his face. When his sapphires, still firey from the recent arguing, finally met her eyes, she whispered a quiet and sincere "Thank you."

He responded with a nod and reached for her right hand with his left, giving it a gentle squeeze.

It wasn't till then that she realized that a lone tear escaped her eye. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the conclusion in the courtroom, Alan and Charlotte went to have a short meeting with their client. Alan abandoned his sarcastic persona to indicate just how seriously today's events damaged their case progress. 

"I wanted to be a doctor, you know?" Mr Wesley told them. "But with my history every path was closed to me. I couldn't get into schools, I couldn't find a decent job for the longest time ..." he explained sadly. "I ruined my life before it had even started. But then I met Lauren and we had Emma... she was my beacon of sunshine ever since her birth. Like my second chance, you know? And now I'm about to lose her as well. How much longer will I have to pay for my stupid teenage mistakes ..."

"I understand Mr Wesley," Alan said compassionately. "it is a shame you haven't been honest with us about it, however. The things could've played out much better for you." 

The man in front of Alan hung his head down low and his shoulders shook with quiet sobs. Alan reached out to rest his hand on the client's shoulder. "As I said, me and my co-counsel did our best to aid you in this matter. Now it all comes down to the judge. Let's all hope we're in for a pleasant surprise," Alan offered a soft smile. 

After the client left, Alan turned to Charlotte "You okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

She sighed "I just ..." Her features seemed worried and tired. Well, he guessed he didn't look much better after a full afternoon in court with an added bonus of a shock surprise. "Thank god you were in there with me," she said. "I simply froze and didn't know how to react. You really made the best out of the sucky situation we were in," she confessed. 

"You're a great lawyer, Charlotte. I am just a tad bit more experienced. And frankly, that's the basis for improvisation skills. It was a low move for the opposing counsel to present such facts this late and unannounced in the trial, but that's just the dirty business of law practice," Alan concluded. He supposed this was one of the rare moments he will ever see her as uncomposed and unsure of herself as she was right now. He felt a strange, almost protective urge tug a his heart, telling him to hug her. He quickly pushed that aside.

"I don't know how to thank you for everything, Alan."

"Stand by my side again tomorrow. I'm ugly as a sin, I need your gorgeous self to balance that out," Alan retorted.

Charlotte smiled weakly and nodded "You can count on that." 

Alan then aided her with her coat and as they were walking out of the courthouse, she asked him "How are you getting home?"

"As per usual," Alan replied "with a vivacious rise of my arm and an innocent smile to the first Taxi driver who passes by."

"Lemme drive you home," Charlotte offered.

"You have a car here in Boston?" he asked.

"It's my boyfriend's. He knew I was gonna be in court till late tonight and he wanted to save me the trouble of riding the public transport alone in the middle of the night," she explained.

"Ahh, I see. Very gallant of him," Alan agreed. It was funny. He knew she wasn't single in the first place, but her saying the words 'my boyfriend' caused an unpleasant stir in him. "There is really no need, Charlotte ..." he started.

"Oh, please, I insist!" she wouldn't budge.

Alan could see that he could not argue his way out of this one in anyway, so he accepted her kind offer and let her lead him to the car.

"Well I must say, Charlotte, I was hoping it wasn't an automatic," Alan remarked. "I quite like seeing a woman managing a ... gear stick."

"Not in a million years would I drive an automatic. It's a car for brainless people and it takes away all the joy, dare I say art of gear shifting while accelerating rapidly. I like my sticks where they belong," Charlotte said with a meaningful look in Alan's eyes. God she was hot. He needed to make her dirty talk further.

"Yes, everything seems to have its place with you," Alan continued as he lustfully watched her roughly handling the gear stick next to his left thigh, occasionally brushing her fingers against the fabric of his pants. She wondered if she noticed that. "May I ask you what's hiding on the inside of you left thigh? I'm dying to know," Alan confessed. 

He saw her lose her cool for a second "How'd you ..." "Well your skirt was quite revealing at times today. And you should know if there is anyone to notice your most intimate places, that would be me," Alan stated simply.

"It's private," Charlotte said in a manner that let Alan know he wasn't going to get his answer tonight. In addition she stepped on the gas pedal and caused Alan to get glued to the front passenger's seat. He also grabbed the handle above his carside window.

"So how come you live in a hotel?" Charlotte asked.

"Well," Alan gulped slightly scared of the speed at which his body was swerving through the highway lanes "I hate cleaning up. And they cook better than I ever could. And I find it agrees most with my lifestyle."

"I mean, I can imagine that. But even so, most people at some point choose to move into somewhere that they can make... their own, you know? Decorate, hand paintings on the wall ..." Charlotte scrunched her eyebrows in thought. Something Alan found absolutely adorable on her features.

"I guess I never cherished aesthetics above practicallity," he summed up. As her hand brushed against his thigh for the umpteenth time, he realised the experience was not unlike getting him measured for pants... only on a much smaller scale of course. His breath hitched at the realisation, and he was grateful his black coat was hiding most of his crotch at that moment. Alan discreetly bit his lip.

"Oh, great," Charlotte exclaimed angrily when the sound of the police sirens turned on right behind her "in how many different ways do I have to get screwed over today?" Alan was about to quip in, but she cut him off with a "Don't you dare."

A young police officer approached her window "Good evening ma'am. You know why I stopped you right now?"

"Yes, Mr Officer. I am so sorry for speeding, I've had a really hard day at work and I am just eager for today to end, really," she replied warily. 

"I'm gonna need your licence and registration, please."

Charlotte handed them to the policeman and buried her face in her hands, suddently looking so small in her driver's seat Alan couldn't help but place a comforting hand on her right knee and leaned over to her "Hey, it's alright. Don't worry, I got this. It's been a long day, you're right," he offered quiet consolation.

"Lieselotte Merck, is that right?" the Officer asked.

"Yes, sir. I still have my German driver's licence, but I do have also the US ID and citizenship," she explained to both men next to her, frankly. 

After a minute of silently reading the documents, the policeman concluded "Alright lady, it really seems like you are just having a bad day." The things pretty women could get away with, Alan thought ...

"Let's make it just a warning for tonight and you make sure she gets home safely, sir, okay?" the man suggested at Alan, who nodded politely, his hand still on her right knee "I promise."

Charlotte rolled up her window and sighed a "Thank god," before restarting the engine and proceeding the drive a lot more carefully. The rest of the ride was almost painfully quiet, with only occasional Alan's directions to his hotel. When they arrived, Alan was the first to break the silence "Thank you for the eventful and informative ride home, Frau Merck."

"I haven't been called so in years," she said smilingly. 

"Drive safely and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Alan said.

She merely nodded.

Maybe it was vulnerability in her eyes. Perhaps the memory of Charlotte returning the squeeze of his hand in court. Whatever it was that made Alan lean forward and kiss Charlotte's cheek goodnight, he was glad. He hadn't felt that sort of intimacy with anyone in years. And god, he had missed it.

"Goodnight, Lotti," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Alan."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Alan started leaning in, everything in Charlotte's head screamed NO, this is wrong. She was sure he was gonna go for the mouth. 

Instead his surprisingly soft and warm lips landed on her right cheek and ... it felt like a thousand tiny comforts. 

Today, Alan Shore emerged in a completely new light. She didn't know whether he was acting now or whether he's pretending with everyone else, but the Alan Shore that platonically held her hand and soothed her knee today was someone she certainly never expected to encounter. He seemed almost nice.

When she came home, David was already asleep. She quietly showered and as she was brushing her teeth, she checked her phone.

_Alan: "Did you manage to arrive home without getting stopped again or crashing the car?"_

She rolled her eyes.

_Charlotte: "Yes. This time there wasn't anyone distracting me from focusing on my driving."_

He responded in a matter of seconds.

_Alan: "Oh? So you find me a distraction? Promising to know."_

_Charlotte: "I bet I can be more distracting than you."_

_Alan: "Oh there is no doubt in my mind about that. I won't be able to sleep just knowing that you have a secret tattoo on your inner thigh. Good God, Charlotte."_

_Charlotte: "Well, what can I say. I'm fun like that ;)"_

_Alan: "You sure are. See you tomorrow & Gute Nacht!"_

_Charlotte: "Nighty Night!"_

She climbed into the bed, next to her boyfriend. He mumbled something incoherent as he woke up for a second, wrapped his arms around her and went back to sleep. As Charlotte was slipping into dreamless slumber, however, it wasn't David's hand that she still felt on her right knee.


End file.
